


a puzzle with no answers

by guesso



Series: Gravity Falls drabbles and snippets [9]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: All hurt no comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, pre- society of the blind eye ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27940115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guesso/pseuds/guesso
Summary: Old Man McGucket roots around in them thingamabobs what live in his hut, knowin' there's gotta be somethin' to all this. Right?
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines
Series: Gravity Falls drabbles and snippets [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045817
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	a puzzle with no answers

He stretched as much as the low ceiling of the hovel would allow him to. ‘Old Man McGucket’ - though he knew he had a real first name, he couldn’t have been called that his whole dang life, right? - sure was living up to his title, if the aching and popping joints were to have their say. He didn’t really feel like he should be that old, though, considering how spry and nimble he was. With a sigh, he pulled the lumpy, battered cardboard box from its place near the wall. It was full of all kinds of stuff, but he couldn’t say for sure why. He just knew it was important, like the framed newspaper. Digging through the random odds and ends, he pulled out a small wooden box. He’d noticed the glint of light on gold yesterday, and realized the thing had a lock, but where the key had run off to he didn’t know. The bobby pin he’d found out in the mounds would make easy work of that, though. McGucket wasn’t entirely sure how he knew he could pick a lock, but he wasn’t entirely sure of much of anything, and had gotten used to just going ahead and letting himself do things. With a sharp  _ click _ the mechanism gave, and the lid bounced up, only to reveal some kind of weird multicolor cube. It had a bunch of little squares all over it, nine squares of each color, he noticed, turning it in his hands. Shaking it gave no results, but it felt like there was more weight to it than what should be just a hunk of plastic. Squeezing it didn’t do anything; it was solid. Holding it in his left hand, he tried to twist the top off, like a jar of jelly - and the top row moved!  _ A puzzle, then _ , he figured, and plopped on the ratty mattress to try and figure out what this strange creation was doing in a locked box.

Flicking around the rows and columns, he let himself be soothed by the clicks and noises. He felt real warm, kinda like he used to when he looked at the newspaper, or the faded wallet photo of a kid with an unfortunately big nose, but this was different - it didn’t make him worry. There was something rattling around in him, but it didn’t seem like this one was all that bad.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he got done with the puzzle, but it sure wasn’t another box. Somehow that didn’t seem right, but what did he know. The inside was dark and velvety, and it was all making his own insides buzz, something coming up in him, swelling, threatening to burst out of his chest. There was some kind of figure-eight thing wedged in the middle of the velvet, and some kind of something caught in the middle of his throat. A mirage of cheap, burnt coffee teased his tastebuds, the scratch and rattle of a well-loved record settled in, making the room, the air, as tight as his ribcage. Sunlight danced on the patchy excuse for a carpet on his dirt floor, no, he was dancing on a sad excuse for some carpet, stained with countless unimaginable things, there were books and books piled, fluorescent lights, somehow they’d gotten a chalkboard in there --

With a hiccupping gasp that something moved to the tip of his tongue, but the haze of the images wouldn’t help him to get it to take shape. He curled in on himself, shaking, scared, and suddenly incredibly  _ lonely _ . He wished the tears would stay in; they were washing out the lingering traces of wherever his memory had taken him. 

As they fell, so did he, back into the calm, back into the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> do y'all remember the two-finger ring for ford content?? god I'm soft for that. anyone still think about that anymore? anyone still thinkin about fidds proposing with a cubix cube? y'all mind if I take this wholesome content and make it angst?


End file.
